Seventeen Years
by ginbug14
Summary: I had no one else to turn to, and I came to you. Running, crying, a broken mess, I came back to the one person I knew could fix me. And that night, I gave you everything I had. You filled me, and I had never felt so right.
1. Blair

Second story ever written, first Gossip Girl FF. This just came to me after seeing a clip on YouTube from season two. I suppose you could say my prompt in my head was, "You came to me, broken, giving me all the pieces to fix you. And I tried." Anyway, tell me what you think of this. Constructive criticism and reviews are always welcome.

xoxo, ginbug

* * *

You had always been there. Since we were little, we had always been around each other; growing up with the glorious blondes we called our best friends. You were always a little different, a little more risqué, a little edgier. This became more evident as we became older. You dabbled in things I would never dream of, while I engaged in my dream, the fairy tale romance I always wanted. But I was never wanted by him. He merely casted me aside when it came to her. She was tall, blonde, thin, everything I felt I wasn't. This was when my eating disorder arose. I felt subordinate to the blonde goddess whose shadow I lived in. By throwing up, I felt as though I could control how things went. I always did like the feeling of being in power, of being powerful. I lived out the movie in my head, something he never grasped, but you always seemed to understand. Sometimes, I would find small things that seemed ordinary, but I knew had been implemented by you to help me fulfill my movie. Like my first headband, when I was in the sixth grade. I think that was almost an apology gift that I found on my bed. After I found out what you did with her, I was shocked and appalled. You felt guilty, but never let anyone see that. The day we got into that huge fight at school was when I came home to find a wrapped present on my bed, with a small card that had your initials engraved attached. That headband was my personal tiara, the crown I wore to distinguish myself as ruler, even when I felt that little tramp had taken that from me by doing those things with you. Those feelings faded, but the headbands remained. And they kept coming on birthdays and holidays, each more exquisite than the next.

When half of the glorious blonde duo left, I felt empty. I clung to the only thing I felt I had left, which was him. But, he wasn't the same. He was distanced, never really there. You weren't there, either. You kept drifting away, getting more and more involved in the things that ordinary people disapproved of. You were the talk of the town; people pitied your father for having you, the party boy who couldn't get enough of sex and drugs, for a son. I tried to keep you as a friend, but eventually, you too deserted me for him. We only ever talked when I needed to scheme. Mainly because you were too lost in your world of parties to be a friend.

Then, she came back, and my whole world started to fall apart. He didn't love me. He never had. I had no one else to turn to, and I came to you. Running, crying, a broken mess, I came back to the one person I knew could fix me. And that night, I gave you everything I had. You filled me, and I had never felt so right. But, because it was you, I thought it was wrong. You brought me the most gorgeous jewelry I had ever seen, and apologized, capturing part of me. I wouldn't admit you had my heart, because that would be accepting defeat. Rather, we played a game, one with secrets, lies, and deception. But at the first sign of him coming back to me, I ran away from you, and straight into his arms, which never felt as right as yours did around me, stroking me in all the right places, his voice never husky enough and never saying just what I needed to hear at just the right moment. Finally, I admitted that you were what I wanted, and you stopped your crazy life to be with me, too.

It seemed perfect; it _was _perfect, until you left me. I used another man to drive you wild, and it worked. But then I tried to make you say those words to me. The ones I needed to hear. And you wouldn't say them. You still seduced me, you still made me burn with a passion no one else could match, but you still wouldn't admit anything. We played our game, our game of dangerous love, of deceit and wit, until tragedy hit. Your father died, and you were a wreck. I quit the game then, and uttered those three magic words; the ones I thought would make it all better. I love you, I said, and you brushed them aside, and ran away. I was brokenhearted, and then you came running back when I least expected it. You fell into my lap, broken, giving me all the pieces to your heart that was left in shambles. You left after that night you stayed with me in my bed, and began to drink heavily again. Still, I held onto the pieces and tried to put you back together, even when you threw my work into my face. But after a while, you can only be so supportive of something that's pushing you away. So I quit.

I went back to him when my life was falling apart again, and I thought living under my fairy tale would make things better again. I lived in my delusion, hurting myself and hurting you. Once I realized that he wasn't going to work, he never had and he never would, I told her. She knew all along I loved you, and tried her hardest to get you to tell me, too. It was to her you first said those magic words about me. "Because I love her, and I can't make her happy," you said to her. But I wouldn't believe that. You made me happy by being you. I tried to make you say those words back, by pulling out all the stops and seduction. Just as you were about to say those magic words, my secret was out, as was yours. I took your face in my hands, and told you how much I loved you, but you turned me away, left broken and bleeding. I accepted this, and tried to move on, with a huge hole in my heart where you belonged. Finally, you came around, bearing my favorite gifts, and the present I would cherish for a lifetime. "I love you, too," you said, and gave me the gift of you, of your heart, given to someone for the very first time. You gave me second chances, you gave me happiness, and you gave me all you felt I deserved. But the one thing you never stopped giving me was love, and the promise that you loved me. What I had needed all along. You gave me you, and that was the best thing I ever received.

So today, on our 50th anniversary, I'm giving you this. Our story. Our crazy, mixed up, out of whack story that took seventeen years to start, and a lifetime to finish. I love you, Chuck Bass.

_Forever yours, Blair_


	2. Chuck

A team. That's how I always considered us. Though our two best friends were the ones we depended upon, we always managed to be the ones working together. Though I was rough, and you the perfect princess of the Upper East Side, we somehow always were complements to each other. Or at least, that was how I saw it in my head. You were always a bit lost in your perfect fantasy, the movie in your head, always dreaming of him, always wishing to be the perfect princess you envisioned her to be. But to me, you were the epitome of perfection, a princess in the modern world, a true classic. My equal, in my head, but never spoken. You strived for the perfection you thought would make you his, and in the end, that was what you got. Him. You were already perfect in my mind, but I never let on. Instead, I began to lose myself in things you would never allow. Still, I kept small ties to you that only you knew of. Do you remember where your first headband came from, and why you received it? I had done something particularly crass, something you would have never allowed, and kept it a secret from you. You found out at school, and I learned that day that there would always be consequences for my actions with you. So, I did the only thing I knew to do. I sent for something unique, something no one else had, but I thought would complement you perfectly. A headband, a stand-in tiara for the princess. I was able to slip it in your room before you got home with the help of your nanny, with only my name card attached. It was a sufficient apology at the time, but I sent more for each occasion on which you give gifts, as continuing requests for forgiveness. I never felt like I could make it up to you.

She left you, and you were empty. I wanted to keep you together, to be your support, but you turned to him. It hurt me, and so I hid from you and him by immersing myself in a world of partying and drugs. Which, subsequently, ruined my relationship with my father. I was there for you when I felt I could be, but most of the time I kept my distance. About then was when I realized my feelings for you. And to hide from them, to keep myself under control, I became the ultimate party boy, the player extraordinaire.

When she came back, your world crumbled while I watched. I tried to help piece it back together, but some things are better left broken. This was when you came to me. Running, crying, a broken mess, you came back to me. And I tried to fix you. I poured as much of my feelings for you as I could into one night, one night that changed everything in the back of my limo. And from then on, I could not hide my feelings for you. I chased you, because you were ashamed. But I knew you felt the same way I did, because there was no denying the pull I felt to you, and it would have been impossible for you not to feel it as well. I then presented you with a gift. This time, not out of regret for an action, but to settle the butterflies I felt in my stomach, but I would never admit to having. Then began our game, our secret, my reason to keep going. And then… you went back to him. You broke my heart, but I could see it in your eyes that you weren't happy. I had to win you back, so I did the only thing I could think of: I spoke to you in my best man speech at my father's wedding. We were so happy, set to go to Tuscany, when I made a stupid decision that cost me what was now the center of my world.

When you brought him back from France, my world was set on fire from the jealous rage you sent me into. But, when given the chance to resolve it all, I couldn't say those three words you wanted, no, needed to hear from me. Still, I kept up our game. Seduction, deceit, and wit, that's what it all was. And then… he died. My father died, and I shut down. Shut out everyone who mattered, mainly, you. But you still tried to heal me. You said the three words you wanted from me, and I brushed you aside, too hurt by the death of my father to care anymore. But when I got slightly sober that night, and realized how little I had left in the world, I ran to the only place I knew was safe—you. I fell into your lap, broken, giving you all the pieces to my heart that was left in shambles, hoping you could somehow find it in you to fix it. I left after that night you stayed with me in your bed, knowing that I wasn't any good for you and you deserved better. I began to drink heavily again. Still, you held onto the pieces and tried to put me back together, even when I threw your work into your face, ungrateful and uncaring. After a while, I think I was so horrible to you, you couldn't take it anymore. And you left. Left me. Left us. I came begging for a second chance, and you threw the flowers back in my face, breaking my heart, once again.

And then you went back to him. It tore me apart inside, knowing that you were with him again, that you didn't want me anymore. That he was better, more desired, the winner in the game for your heart. That was when I knew for certain that these feelings I called butterflies were more than that. They were love. I loved you, and tried to make you happy with him. I gave you everything you could have wanted, from the perfect Prom to letting you go free. When she asked me why I had done this, my answer was simple, the only one that made sense. "Because I love her, and I can't make her happy." And then, you were free from him by your own doing. Things looked eternally brighter, and I had hope. You began to seduce me in the way that only you can, and as I was about to confess my feelings to you, our secrets were set free. I was too hurt by your past actions, and then you said something that would haunt me for weeks, to tell you I loved you, and then nothing else would matter. I could only reply that maybe it was worth it then, but it wasn't anymore. I broke your heart again, and I couldn't bear to see the tears slide down your cheeks, knowing I had put them there. So, I flew to Europe to get away from you, but you only continued to haunt me wherever I went, seeing your favorite things everywhere. I eventually succumbed to what I felt, bought all the things that had reminded me of you, and flew back to New York to regain your forgiveness, and hopefully gain your love back. When I finally saw you, I gave you the gifts, and the greatest one of all, what you had been waiting to hear. What I had been waiting to say, without realizing it, for seventeen years. "I love you, too." With those four words, I gave you my heart for eternity; I was yours for the taking, and you were mine. You gave me what I needed to be myself, you completed me. You gave me a present that day, your love, and it's one that I've needed every day since.

And now, since it's been 50 years since I officially made you mine, I give you this gift—our story, from my mouth. Our story that took seventeen years to start, and has never ended. For this I am eternally grateful. I love you, Blair.

_Forever yours, Chuck_


End file.
